semifreakingnormal | ( 012 ) Ω ( Video )

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( 012 ) Ω ( Video )

[He's been back about an hour, just sitting in his room. It's not that he doesn't want to be here. He does. He needs to be here, to make things right again, and still all he wants is to rewind the clock, to go back to weeks ago, before their darkness spilled out into the world. Everything had looked bright. Okay. And now...

Now he understands why Stiles didn't want him to go back. Nothing will be like it was. Not until he saves Allison.

And he can't do that by letting people think he isn't here. He gets up, splashes water on his face, stares at himself in the mirror until he thinks his expression is normal. It's close enough. Drying off, he goes back to sit on the bed and picks up the communicator. When it clicks on, he smiles, and it's still Scott underneath, even if it's not quite as bright. He's older, though, only a year but it feels longer. His hair is shorter, he looks stronger. He's trying to hide the rest, and doing a decent job of it. But only decent.]

Hey, guys. I'm back.

[He waves his free hand. Semi-awkward Scott McCall is still under the new haircut! And is that a tattoo peeking out from under his left sleeve?]

So, did I miss anything good? I think...I was a troll, the last flood. How long ago was that?

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Good.

[He nods, lets out a breathe. For a long moment, he doesn't say anything, looking down. Then he swallows, meets Stiles' eyes again.]

Thanks. For not telling me.

Yeah.

[It hurts to see Scott look as sad and tired as Stiles feels and the words stick in his throat. Like he's done Scott any favors here or at home. If only. He nods and looks down silently for a long moment.]

My dad's -- he's okay, right? And your mom?

[Because he doesn't know. He doesn't know if they even survived. If the nogitsune had been taunting him with those things to get him to kill himself, or if it had been real. And oh god, what if they both died? Or either of them?]

Yeah, they're both fine.

[His brow crinkles, though, because he didn't expect Stiles to ask. It's been a few days, Stiles should know that. And then it occurs to him: what if he's further along than Stiles is, now? It's not like he could ask when Stiles was from, last time. He would have had no frame of reference.]

What was happening, before you came here?

[He exhales, closing his eyes and leaning back against his headboard. Thank god for that, at least. The relief on his face is visible.]

Good. I was afraid... [He shakes his head, because it was pretty obvious what he'd been afraid of.]

Uh, big fight with the nogitsune. [Stiles waves his hand, swallowing heavily.] It was snowing and everything.

[His gaze drops because yeah. He figures he killed himself in front of Scott and Lydia and Kira because there hadn't been any other options and that's not something he wants to really think about. That he's piled another layer of trauma on Scott and Lydia.]

[Oh. Oh, no.]

Dude, Stiles--

['It's okay, you didn't kill yourself' feels crass, so he just shakes his head.]

It worked out okay. We stopped him. He's trapped, for good this time. [Well. He hopes.]

[That catches him off guard and he looks up once more, confusion flickering over his expression.]

How? [It's not that he doubts Scott, because he never really doubts Scott, but he's trying to piece together how it all worked out. How they'd managed to stop him.]

You figured it out. Bardo - it wasn't real. We just had to push through to the other side. And then - we changed him.

[It's kind of weird, and he worried, for a little while, that he'd have trouble separating it in his thoughts, but it hasn't been so bad. The first, only person he's ever bitten - well, in Beacon Hills, anyway - was an evil copy of Stiles.

It's okay, though.If he can get past watching him crumple to dust, he can get past the rest.]

Isaac caught him in the thing carved from the Nemeton.

[He takes a minute to process that. So he lives. It's unexpected, and not entirely relieving, honestly. But on the plus side, at least he didn't kill himself in front of Scott and Lydia. He lets out a breath, nodding and chewing on a thumbnail.

He searches for words and comes up with nothing for a long time. Isaac. He's been such an asshole to Isaac for such a long time, long before the possession ever happened. There's a myriad of emotions about everything and everyone and he struggles to push them away so he can talk to his best friend.]

So it's really gone then.

Yeah. It's really gone. We made it.

[Most of them. No Aiden. Not Allison.

But he thinks of everyone who did, and breathes a little easier.]

There's this thing Deaton was telling me. Have you ever heard of Regression to the mean?

[As grateful as he is that at least their parents, and Scott and Lydia and Isaac made it through, Stiles has a hard time seeing past the bad parts. The fact that he killed deputies at the sheriff's station. That he could have killed his dad. Coach. Stabbing Scott. Tormenting Scott's mom.

Allison.

But this is how they've always been -- Stiles fixates on the negatives. Scott focuses on the positives. Darkness vs. light. There's no question in his mind which one he represents in so many ways. He draws in a breath, chewing his lower lip as he forces himself to focus on Scott's question.]

No. I don't think so. What is it?

It's like - do you remember last time - a few days ago, I guess. you were telling me about...Newton, or someone. Equal and opposite reaction, I think. YOU said it basically meant balance. So does this.

No matter how bad, or how good things get, eventually it'll always rebalance. Regression to the mean.

I told him, probably not in Beacon Hills, but I think - maybe he was right.

[No matter how bad, or how good. They've still got each other. They always have.]

[Considering how much time passed for Scott between that conversation and Scott's subsequent return to the Barge, Stiles is suitably impressed that Scott remembers that conversation. He considers that for a moment.]

Yeah, I guess that makes sense.

[Things have a way of balancing themselves out, for better or worse. It makes him think of their families back home. He lost his mom, Scott lost his dad -- different ways and for different reasons, but he looked at Scott's mom like a second mother because she'd always been there when he'd needed her. And Stiles' dad had always been there for Scott when he needed a father figure. Plus Deaton, too.]

How uh -- how are you doing? [He's hesitant. Scott isn't all right because there isn't any way that he can be. He's known the guy way too long to think that everything that happened isn't tearing him up even if he's not showing it.]

[Scott snorts, shrugs both shoulders. Regressing to the mean has been their lives since - forever, well before he was bitten. It's not easy to think, but it does help, in a small ways. It can't be this bad forever.]

Not great.

[Dry, but not mean. Scott lifts his eyes from the communicator, looks around his room.] But it's going to be okay. [Not because things will balance out, but because they're here.]

Between the two of us, our deals - it'll be okay.

[He never asked if Stiles' deal was for Allison, but - he thinks it has to be.]

[He watches Scott look around and he swallows heavily at his words. Yeah. It would be okay. Because -- deals are the key here.]

Yeah. Yeah, it'll be better. It'll be okay.

[It isn't, exactly. Not just Allison, anyway. The deputies. Coach. That moment at the clinic. All of it. Temporal fold with full knowledge of what was to come.]

[He's known Stiles way too long. And now that he knows everything that happened...Scott shakes his head.]

It's not your fault. Stiles, seriously - none of that was you. It was the Nogitsune.

[And he believes that, doesn't blame Stiles - but he understands, here, what it's like to remember doing things you would be appalled by. He remembers the other version of himself, on the other Barge. It's hard to forget these things, and what helped him was knowing that no one blamed him.]

[Somehow he's not the least bit surprised by his best friend's reassurances. He'd told him the same thing back home.]

Intellectually...I know that. [He chews his thumbnail, looking troubled. He believes Scott doesn't blame him. Believes that without a doubt. That's just Scott.]

I think it's just...gonna take me awhile to get it out of my head. To believe it. [He looks down, falling silent.]

I get that.

[Scott nods, breathes out slowly. Nods again.] And I'll keep telling you, until it sinks in.

[His smile is small, and he doesn't feel very solid about all of this, but he feels solid about Stiles.]

[He rubs a hand over his face. He shouldn't need constant reassurance about things. He's 17, not a kid. But this isn't like other things they've dealt with. Not really. And he isn't the only one hurting. And maybe if he can just focus on Scott, then it'll fix him, too.]

Thanks. [His voice is quiet.] What about you?

I dunno. [He shrugs, shakes his head, and his laugh is quiet and shaky.]

I don't know, Stiles. I feel guilty. Like I should have found a way to stop all of it. Save everyone. Like if I was a better alpha, I'd have been able to.

[Hearing those words from Scott makes his stomach tighten into a knot.]

Scott, listen to me. This isn't on you. You didn't do this. [He holds his breath for the briefest of moments.] And this all started before you even became an alpha, so you can't -- this isn't on your head, man. At all. And it has nothing to do with that.

Yeah. Intellectually...[He smiles wanly, falls silent. It fades, and he looks down for a moment.]

Aiden died, too.

[He doesn't like keeping things from Stiles. And this one is hard to convince himself of his innocence.]

He died fighting for me.

Yeah. [He looks down, too, chewing on his lower lip. He feels guilt sweep through him at that news. He didn't really like the guy. He certainly hadn't trusted him. But he'd died because of this mess, and that...he's not entirely sure what to do with that either.]

I'm sorry. [And he is. He's sorry for the whole mess. He wants to reassure Scott that Aiden's death isn't his fault either, but he doesn't know the circumstances of what happened there. Doesn't have all the right words. Are words even really enough? He doesn't think so. He swallows hard.]

Can I -- is it okay if I come up there?

[His nod, at least, is immediate. As much as everything else still feels numb or raw by turns, he's certain of this.]

Yeah, man, you don't have to ask. Come over.

[Scott is better with people around. He's better with people, and friends, and maybe a pack, too. He doesn't really want to be alone, now. And he doesn't want Stiles to be alone, either.]

[He's relieved by the immediate affirmative reaction. He hadn't really expected anything else -- not from Scott. But he wouldn't have blamed him if he'd hesitated.]

Be right there.

[He shuts off the device but takes it with him, making his way up all the stairs that separate them. Stiles doesn't really want to be alone either. But somehow it sorta feels like he should be. Truthfully he needs to see Scott in person. Especially now. He knocks on the door moments later and steps inside without waiting for his friend's response. Boundaries? What boundaries?]

[They don't know the meaning of the word. Scott is sitting square on his bed, a PS4 controller in front of him. The system, a gift from Dean last Christmas, is on, but the game is paused. Scott's not really up for fun distractions, not right now.

He looks up when Stiles enters, nods a hello and picks up the controller.]

Wanna play?

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